Clearing the Air
by Lucretia Skelington
Summary: Adama tries straighten out the postshooting mess by clearing the air. Rated Teen to be safe, but there's nothing objectionable in it. SPOILER: season 2 one scene on the commercials. AU and complete. AdamaRoslin


_I own no rights to Battlestar Galactica or the characters, to my great dismay._

_This is AU since this will never really happen, unfortunately, and is my sappy take on why Adama arrested Roslin and its results. Fluffy and syrupy- get the pancakes!_

* * *

Clearing the Air

Commander William Adama felt as if someone had nailed him with two slugs at point-blank range then sat on his chest and bounced. Apparently, that was what had happened.

With a groan, he pushed himself up on one arm then quickly grabbed the bed's railing with the other to keep from falling back as pain tore through his upper body.

"I know it won't do a damn bit of good to tell you to lie back down," Cottle groused, coming to stand by the bed with an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips, "but, I will anyway."

"How long?" Adama rasped. He looked down at his chest then let go of the railing with his right hand and gently touched the long incision line. He lifted his head, taking in the room in which he'd awakened.

"Well, I'd say you need another week in bed, then maybe-"

"No. How long have I been out?" The room was slowly spinning to a stop before his eyes and Adama tried to focus on the far wall without success.

"You were unconscious for a week, then in and out for almost another." Cottle scratched at his chin. "You remember any of that?"

Adama shook his head, immediately regretting it. "No … just the shots in CIC," he answered hoarsely. He clutched at the mattress and fought back nausea as the room whirled, again.

Cottle grunted knowingly. "I told you to stay down."

Adama swung his left leg off the bed. "I need to see to the ship. Please call Col.-," he stopped, unable to continue as it was all he could do to stay upright and breathe.

"You are going to fall flat on your ass." Cottle pursed his lips and watched his CO pale to the whiteness of the paper on his clipboard. He shook his head. "You are one stubborn Old Man, you know that?"

"Please ask Col. Tigh to join me," Adama continued, ignoring the doctor. He pointed his lap. "And get this tube _out_!"

Cottle snorted and, with what passed for a grin, motioned to a nearby med tech to join them. The Old Man was going to be fine.

* * *

An hour and a half later, dressed in sweats, Adama sat stone-faced in a private room adjoining the medical bay. Across the table, Saul Tigh tried not to squirm.

"It was a confusing time- didn't know who to trust," the XO offered, waving an arm in the air. "What with you being shot by one of our own, Starbuck running off to gods knows where-"

"Caprica. She went back to Caprica."

"-and Lee pointing a gun at my head and Cylons on our tail, I felt martial law was warranted!"

Adama shifted in his seat and grimaced at pain from both his injuries and the reference to his son.

Lee.

Martial law.

The president in the brig and the fleet in chaos.

_What a mess._

"Ask Mr. Gaeta to join us," he said. With a shaking hand, he carefully lifted a glass of water to his lips. Cottle had wrapped his chest, reinforcing the bandages, and insisted he take medicine for pain. Adama took the pills only after Cottle swore they weren't a sedative. He was tired and sore, and it hurt to breathe and move, but he hadn't fallen asleep so the doc must have told him the truth. He'd had his doubts, though.

Tigh opened the door and gestured to the lieutenant to come in. Cottle followed and leaned against the doorjamb, watching Adama carefully. The doctor's expression told the commander that Cottle wasn't going to leave; he let him stay.

Adama looked at his Executive Officer. "As of this moment, I am resuming command of the Galactica."

"Sir, are you sure you're up to-" At the commander's look, Tigh fell silent.

"My orders are as follows. Rescind the order for martial law and release President Roslin from the brig immediately. Ask her to join me in room A201 in an hour and a half, and please see to it that she has private facilities to use in the meantime, and that she has means to contact Colonial One and her staff. Have her ship dock at once if it has not already done so."

He looked at Gaeta and the younger man shook his head.

"Release Capt. Adama to his quarters to await my summons and continue holding…Lt. Valeri under armed guard." The commander rubbed a hand across his face. "Cylons are strong- Leoben was difficult to take down, even weakened as he was at Ragnar. If Valeri… if _it_ tries anything, they are to stop it by any means necessary."

He took another swallow of water and after a moment continued. "How quickly can a press conference be arranged?"

"Sir, the press pool is aboard the Colonial One, which has been…" The lieutenant looked at Tigh, unsure what to say. "It's been flanking the Galactica." He did not add that at Col. Tigh's orders, a Viper was always positioned behind it, making sure the transport did not leave or come in contact with any other ship.

"Have them dock at once."

"A press conference?" Tigh asked.

"Yes. There will be a press conference in room 201 in two hours…sooner, if possible. Please keep me informed and have someone bring me a uniform." Adama coughed, unable to prevent his grimace of pain as his face darkened then paled. It took a moment for him to recover. "That is all for now. Thank you, Mr. Gaeta."

"Yes, sir." At the doorway, Gaeta hesitated. "Sir?"

"Yes, lieutenant?"

"Sir, I just wanted to say that it's good to see you up and in charge of things, again," Gaeta said. Tigh shuffled his feet, redness creeping up his neck. "That is, we were worried-"

"Thank you, lieutenant," Adama broke in. He was tiring quickly. "I appreciate your concern. Please see to the orders and note my return to duty in the log. Colonel Tigh will continue to oversee the ship's business."

Alone once again, Tigh studied his friend and commanding officer. "If I may ask, what are you planning to do at a press conference?"

Adama stood slowly and leaned on the back of his chair, waiting for the grayness momentarily clouding his vision to fade before answering.

"I'm going to clear the air."

* * *

"Commander, I _don't_ think this is wise."

Adama watched as she paced the area in front of the desk, her arms folded and a scowl on her face. "Madam President, in ten minutes I am going to address the press and officials in that room whether you are with me or not."

"Before we go in there, we have issues to discuss! You have kept the lawful president of these colonies prisoner and in the past two weeks you have prevented my ship from-"

"I know this has been difficult, and-"

"_Difficult_? Is that what you would call it?" Roslin jerked her head around to stare at him. Her voice rose. "I think things have gone _far_ beyond difficult, Commander!"

"Madam President, I-"

_"You cannot just pretend nothing's happened!" _

Elbows on the table, Adama rested his head in his hands. "Please, listen-"

_"Commander, you seem to think your position allows you to do whatever you choose and damn the consequences!" _Roslin shouted._ "Well, it doesn't! There will be a reckoning and-"_

"Laura."

Startled, Roslin fell silent at the softly spoken word. Never before had William Adama called her by her first name. Never. She waited.

It was a surprise when she was released from prison by his order. While in the brig, no one had briefed her on activity within the fleet and she had only rumor and snatches of her guards' conversations to go on. Her initial relief at getting out of the brig faded quickly when she was taken to quarters on the Galactica and ordered to report to him shortly. She was, essentially, still a prisoner.

Kept in the dark for the past two weeks, she knew nothing of Commander Adama's condition since the shooting, until little over an hour ago. He had not, she supposed, been injured as badly as everyone first feared and must have recovered consciousness quickly, recuperating during the past week. That meant he had been the one to declare martial law and tear apart her administration. Why had he released her now?

It must suit his purposes, she'd decided. The thought did nothing to lessen her anger, in the least. William Adam still thought that military force was the answer to every problem.

She'd learned of all that had occurred when shown to a room where she'd showered, dressed in clean clothing, and finished a quick update with Billy before two guards knocked on her door then announced they were to escort her to the commander. Not pleased, she'd nevertheless gone along and had found him in a small anteroom next to the Galactica's main conference hall, sitting behind a bare table.

Angry and upset at the time over what she saw as continued custody, she'd barely listened to what he been saying for the past ten minutes.

"Laura, please listen," he repeated, lifting his head to look at her. "I've not had time to be briefed on all that has occurred, but right now my main concern is how to quickly restore order and security in our current situation. The Cylons can move again at any moment and we _must_ be ready."

"If you had not isolated me from my staff and kept the Colonial One from making contact with the fleet for over a week, our situation would be a great deal less difficult!" she snapped.

"Your ship's communications were cut off?" The lines of Adama's somber face deepened.

"Yes. Three days after I left Colonial One with Colonel Tigh and just before your troops commandeered the fuel supply ship. Surely you recall that incident- it caused quite a stir, I'm told."

Showing no sign of knowing what she was talking about, Adama did not reply, but sat very still. She stared at him, suddenly noticing the pallor of his skin, the dark circles under his eyes, and the hollowed planes of his face. He looked exhausted and ill. How had he been maintaining command? Stiffly, he leaned against the chair's back.

She saw him close his eyes and take a deep breath, then wince, his hand pressing against his chest to the left of his heart. She thought she heard him groan. Doubt began to grow. "Commander, how long have you been out of the medical facility?"

He slowly opened his eyes and she could see fresh pain in them. He was far from well, she realized.

"About fifteen minutes."

_"You mean you just got out?"_ Roslin turned away and walked across the small room, lifting her hands then letting them drop to her sides. She suddenly spun around. Her eyes narrowed. "Did Dr. Cottle release you or did you simply get up and leave?"

Adama shifted uneasily in his seat. "Well…I needed to-"

_"You walked out!"_ Placing her hands on the table, she leaned forward, her face close to his. "How long have you been awake and aware of what's going on?" she demanded.

He looked away and cleared his throat. "Awake…aboutfour hours."

_"Dear gods!"_ Laura shook her head, her eyes wide in disbelief. _"You're going to kill yourself!"_

"The Cylons are trying to do that for me," he joked, giving her a weak smile. Roslin didn't laugh, but continued to stare at him.

"You didn't order martial law?"

"No."

"Or my staff cut off from the fleet?"

"No."

"Or the raid?"

"No," he sighed.

Her anger gone, she sank into her chair then leaned an elbow on the table and let her fingers rake through her hair. He'd had nothing to do with what had happened after the shooting.

"What are we going to do, William?"

"What we must," he said. "We tell the truth."

She lifted her chin. "The truth? I don't see how even the truth will help, at this point."

Adama looked directly at her. "It's all we have."

There was a knock on the hallway door, and at his "come," it opened. Lt. Gaeta stepped inside.

"Sir, everything is ready."

"Thank you, lieutenant. I will be there in a moment."

"Yes, sir." He went to stand by the door that led to the conference room.

"Madam President, the bottom line- we can show a united front in an effort to subdue fears that are running rampant throughout the fleet. Or, we can stay at odds and add fuel to the fire and weaken our position irreparably." Adama took an unsteady breath then stood slowly, his face showing nothing more than its usual stony countenance. But, Roslin saw sweat break out on his forehead.

"Commander, I am concerned about your well-being. This is not sensible. You should not be-"

"The fleet needs-"

"The fleet needs you well."

_I need you well_, she thought. And, it was true whether she wanted to admit it or not. There was no one else she could trust to command the Galactica and the fleet. There was no one else she wanted at her side when things were tough…or even not.

"I will manage," he replied, coming around the table.

"Perhaps, but I think it better that you-" The pallor increased and Laura felt a stab of alarm. "William, _please_! Let me talk to the press alone. You can rest, then-"

"No." He tugged his jacket smooth then wiped his face with a handkerchief. "Let's go."

Laura watched helplessly as Adama made his way slowly toward the door leading to the conference room. He spoke quietly to Gaeta, then straightened his shoulders and wiped his face once more before nodding. Lt. Gaeta opened the door and the commander stepped through it, his step firm and sure, as if he hadn't spent the past two weeks flat on his back and fighting for his life.

She hurried after him.

* * *

_"Why did you arrest President Roslin?"_ The question hung in the air.

"At President Roslin's urging, one of my senior pilots went against my direct orders to attack and destroy the Cylon base star that posed a threat to the fleet. Instead, she returned to Caprica and is now missing," he answered slowly and deliberately, leaning forward, an arm on the table at which he and the president were seated. Across from there were several dozen reporters, presidential staff, and others. "The immediate danger from the Cylon base star was, in my opinion, grave enough to warrant my making certain that no further orders would be countermanded or undermined until the objective to destroy the base star had been met."

His voice softened. "I do, however, regret that the incident aboard the Colonial One ended as it did. It was never my intention to close down the government. I take full responsibility for all that has happened."

There was only the sound of whirring recorders and scratching pens. He continued firmly. "At present, the safety and continued existence of the fleet is of paramount importance. _We have to survive_." Adama's gaze swept the room. "The function of the civilian government is secondary- it _has_ to be. We are still under threat from the Cylons and our military operations cannot be interfered with- not even by the president."

Beside him, Laura Roslin clasped her hands on the table before them, but did not interrupt.

"But, let me assure all of you that when the fleet has reached a position of safety and the Cylon threat is judged to be reduced or negated, the business of rebuilding our society will be the fleet's- and the military's- primary objective. The military is dedicated to the protection of the civilian populace and support of its government." Adama sat back.

"Does the President agree?" someone asked from the back row.

Roslin hesitated, and then nodded. "Sending one of the Galactica's pilots to Caprica to obtain information that would…ensure the accuracy of our course to Earth and aid our navigation was, to me, a necessity. However, in hindsight," she continued, "it might better have been accomplished at a later time, after the mission against the base star had been completed."

She paused, considering her words carefully. "It was not right for me to have pressed Lt. Starbuck to disobey orders thus interfering with a military operation. For that, I apologize to Commander Adama."

At her words, Adama glanced at Roslin, giving her a slight nod then looked down at the table. She noticed he was sweating, his fingers clenched around the arms of his chair.

"The fleet's safety and survival is of utmost concern and we are grateful to all that Commander Adama and his crew has done to that end. We owe our lives to them." Roslin looked around the room at her advisors and cabinet members, meeting the eyes of each. "I, and my staff, will support Commander Adama and in the future will work with him to find answers to what we see as pressing needs."

Another voice called out. "Commander, we've heard that you were shot by the very same officer who'd just returned from delivering the warhead to the Cylon base star. Could this have caused her to turn on you?"

It took Adama several seconds before he could answer. He was weakening, Laura could tell. "That is unknown, at present."

"Sir, we've heard she is a Cylon. Could the mission have triggered her actions?"

Before he could respond, Roslin spoke up. "Yes, it is true that Commander Adama's attacker was a Cylon. We do not know of it's programming, however, but it is certainly possible that it's visit to the base star triggered the event."

"I doubt if its being aboard the base star for the time it took to deliver the warhead caused the Cylon's actions," Adama said.

Roslin fervently wanted to believe that was true…but could not. In truth, she had not thought beyond the need to recover the Arrow when she spoke with Lt. Thrace. Just how the lieutenant's insubordination would affect the fleet's defenses had never occurred to her. She'd assumed that the temporary loss of one pilot would not be great.

Had inciting Lt. Thrace to abandon the mission indirectly caused Adama's injuries? What if he had died?

"I assure all citizens," she said firmly, pushing aside the cold fear in her heart, "that the civilian government and military can and _will_ work together for the benefit of the fleet. Our goals are one and the same- to survive."

Adama's breathing was raspier now; she could hear each breath. "Commander Adama has pressing duties and I thank him allowing me to join him. I will be happy to answer more of your questions, but please understand that the commander will not be able to stay any longer."

She hoped Adama could manage to stand.

He looked her and inclined his head slightly. "Thank you, Madam President." His voice was almost a whisper. Adama drew a breath and turned to the representatives and press. "Thank you all for allowing me the opportunity to address your concerns….and for allowing me to serve you."

Adama took another deep breath and pushed his hands against the table, rising to his feet, head bowed. He paused, closing his eyes momentarily.

Roslin cast a quick, desperate glance at Billy then quickly stood. "Commander, may I have a word with you before you return to your duties?" Adama nodded and she placed her arm on his.

"The President will return after briefly conferring the Commander Adama," Billy began, stepping in front of Adama, trying to block the reporters' views. "In the meantime, allow me to explain President's Roslin's plan for improving communications between ships…"

* * *

The room wavered before William Adama's eyes and began to darken. He quickly looked down, resting his weight on his hands spread on the table. _Dear gods, don't let me collapse now!_

Suddenly, Laura Roslin was at his side, touching him, and he was moving. Gaeta opened the door and held it, eyes wide with worry. Once in the hallway, he felt someone grab his arms, supporting his weight. He looked up- Saul. He leaned against the bulkhead and felt its cool hardness at his back. "Thank you. I'm fine."

Tigh snorted. "Like hell, you are!"

"Commander, please do not overdo," Roslin said anxiously.

"There are responsibilities in CIC…and with my crew. I can't-"

"At the moment, your responsibility is to recover, Commander. Your crew needs you at a hundred percent," she said. She saw Dr. Cottle frown around the butt of his cigarette. "So does the fleet. You must return to the medical facility."

Adama rubbed a hand tiredly across his face. "Giving orders again, Madame President?"

For a moment, Laura wasn't sure if he was angry, but saw the corner of his mouth jerk upward.

"Do I have to incite a mutiny in order to force you to rest, Commander?" she replied lightly.

He sighed. "No."

She smiled, pleased.

"All right. After resting for a couple of hours, I'll call a meeting in my quarters and I won't visit the CIC until tomorrow."

"You won't leave medical unless I say you can," Cottle growled. "You probably ripped out a dozen stitches and clamps, so I'm examining you- _now_." Cottle snatched the stub from his mouth and jabbed it toward his CO. "And I _do_ have the authority to give you orders!" He glanced at the two techs waiting nearby then turned abruptly and stormed away, still grumbling.

"Colonel Tigh, please wait and accompany me back to medical." Adama pushed away from the wall, keeping one hand on the bulkhead to steady himself. "Afterwards, please see to the ship, and then meet me in my quarters in two hours time with our CAG. We have an issue to settle."

"Yes, sir." Tigh stepped aside to wait, giving Adama a moment of privacy to speak once more with Roslin.

"Madame President," he began, squaring his shoulders, his words only loud enough for her to hear.

"Yes, Commander?"

"Thank you for your support… and keeping my confidence. You could have told the truth about Earth."

"My support and confidence is well deserved, Commander. If…no, _when_ we find Earth, our getting there will be as much your doing as anyone's. You've kept us alive," she answered quietly. She offered her hand, which he took. "I look forward to our continued teamwork, Commander."

"So do I, Madam President," he replied, just as softly. He held her hand for a moment longer. "Very much so."


End file.
